


The Empty Rift

by Inquisitor_Vakarian



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-09
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-16 08:14:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29947074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inquisitor_Vakarian/pseuds/Inquisitor_Vakarian
Summary: A sleeping rift appears in the courtyard of Skyhold and Varric is all to unnerved to see what unfolds.
Kudos: 3





	The Empty Rift

There was a loud crack from the courtyard, a flash of green and a shockwave enough to rattle the windows of the Herald’s Rest.

Some people gathered outside. Most ran into the main body of the castle taking shelter from the presumed horrors to come. 

This was a first.

A fade rift had spontaneously opened in the middle of the front gardens, oozing green ichor onto the bottom steps of the hold.

Varric squinted at it from the open doorway. “Well,” he took a breath. “Shit.”

\---

It took several minutes for the Inquisitor to make her way outside, confused as everyone else at the sudden appearance before them. “It wasn’t me… at least I don’t think it was me.” She looked down at the mark on her hand. It glowed faintly and thrummed in time with the pulsating rift. No new rifts had appeared since the destruction of the orb, when Corypheus had been defeated. For one to just turn up now, and in the middle of the most well manned fortress in Southern Thedas no less was, well, one hell of a coincidence to say the least. 

Most of the inner circle, or what was left of it, had gathered outside now, armoured up and ready for whatever horrors might emerge, but the rift was silent. No whisps, wraiths or demons to be seen. This was a first. Perhaps if Solas was here he would have some kind of explanation but without him, they had only the Inquisitor to rely on. “I have no idea.” she said when Cullen asked what she planned to do about it. “I can’t close it unless it’s weakened and currently I see no demons to fight in order to do so. The only thing we can do is just leave it I guess. Until it wakes up at least.”

“Leave it until it wakes up? Inquisitor are you quite serious?” 

“I’m not suggesting we ignore it. Post a guard, put up warning signs, whatever makes you feel better, but for now there’s nothing I can do. It poses no immediate threat. ” She paused to take in all the dumbfounded looks. “Well no physical threat at least. For now.” Cullen breathed a heavy sigh and went about establishing a rota for around the clock guards to man the rift. Varric kept his eye on it through the window as he sipped at his ale. Something about it unnerved him. It made him antsy. He kept Bianca all the more close for the next few days.

And so it went on like that for weeks. It became known as the empty rift; the only rift to ever appear without demons. Dorian theorised it had something to do with the weakened veil, or perhaps the altitude, but they had no other such reports from elsewhere within the Inquisitions reach. Most of those at Skyhold had grown bored with it. It had become merely another part of the landscape. Some soldiers had taken to throwing things at it, despite the commanders' protests. First person to land something in the fade wins. 

They’d tried books, daggers, swords, sports rackets, a nug, a jar of bees (thanks Sera) and even a door at one point (that one was Bull’s idea), but nothing stuck. Varric watched them all from the window of the Herald’s rest, smiling as it reminded him of the sort of shenanigans he and the rest of the Kirkwall crew used to get up to. 

“There was this one time, ” he’d say, as the evening’s patrons sat beside the fire listening to his tales. He’d smile to himself as he remembered it fondly. It felt so long ago now. He hadn’t seen Hawke since the fade. He hadn’t seen anyone else from his time in Kirkwall since then. He’d written, as it had fallen upon him to do so, but those were the only words he’d ever struggled to write. Hawke was gone. He was not coming back.

His story was cut short. There was an almighty crack from outside and the gentle green glow of the rift had suddenly become sporadic and intense. The inn grew quiet. Varric tensed. He made eye contact with Sera from across the fire. Her eyes were wide and her mouth hung in an open frown. They both knew whatever this was, it couldn’t be good.

Seconds later, there was a wet sounding thud. Then another crack, and the green dissipated. The rift had closed. Perhaps the Inquisitor had found a way to seal it after all, although some warning would have been nice. He suddenly doubted that when he realised the Inquisitor was sat at the bar on the other side of the tavern, as she was most nights, reflecting, half-listening to Varric’s stories for comfort. Now she was anything but comfortable, instead staring out the window, a firm gaze fixed on where he assumed the rift had just been. Then, for lack of a better phrase, Varric saw her jaw hit the floor. She stood up so suddenly it knocked the stool she had been perched on flying. She turned to Varric, mouth still agape. What had she seen to make her look like that? What’s happening out there, he thought.

He heard several more heavy, wet thuds. They were getting louder, and closer. He drew Bianca close. They were almost at the door now. They sounded almost like footsteps although very heavy and laboured. He held his finger to the trigger. The Inquisitor didn’t move. The footsteps stopped. Then there was a knock at the door. Nobody moved. It wasn’t locked. Did demons knock?

The door swung open and smacked into the cold stone wall behind it, almost splintering from the force. “Fine!” said the figure in the doorway, “I’ll let myself in then.”.

What stood before the patrons now was a sight to behold. It was a towering figure, covered in a mix of brown, green and red sludge, dripping wet from all corners, and judging from the tone of voice, one who was rather exhausted. It raised a muddy hand to its face and wiped, revealing a set of striking blue eyes, a semi-recognisable red smudge across the nose, a dark beard, and an all too familiar smirk. Varric lowered his weapon.

“I don’t know about you,” said the stranger, staring at Varric and looking ready to collapse, “but I could do with a drink.”


End file.
